sometimes, looking around, I find it hard to imagine I was ever in any place I have ever been. our immediate surroundings hold such weight, some overwhelming presence that I can't imagine, yet alone believe, that I was ever on a beach in Honduras, or a mountain top in Yosemite, or at a cafe in France at four in the morning.
I am not there now and it never happened. I am who I have become regardless of the past.
but other times. oh, other times, like time slippage, a small trigger, a little random visceral poke will transport me into the space of presence of someone long gone, long past. a story, a song, the sound of someone's voice. a comment will evoke a feeling and then it's 1991 and I am nursing another unrequitted crush and dying to leave my town. or I will see a picture it is 2001 and I am in love. with him. and it is not so bad. you know. I am me in that moment and all it contains.
I had a friend once say they never fell out of love with anyone they ever loved.
on some level. well this is just bullshit it seems to me. a little bit of stubbornly not letting go because we all know that moment when you are dividing up your stuff and you can't begin to imagine how you ever felt the way you felt the moment before your first kiss.
but on the other hand. maybe there is nothing truer. there are moments when I am every bit as in love, or as scared, or hopelessly under the tide of an emotion long ago inspired. or I am angry. all over again, for all the things that made me angry over years of emotional undertow. or I am at peace. on my porch. napping. for just a moment.
ofcourse. these moments slip away, into a slipstream I think we like to call nostalgia. they are there for the reminiscing, never to be lived again. in those transitional moments I find myself lost. how could I have wanted, yearned and lived for things so potently that are now a simple memory. how will I never see him again or never have a chance to love that person as I did. And what. what if now is just another one of those moments. And it is ten years from now and I can only capture my current life in bursts and memories.
Such a strange thing. This plateu of time.